


Overwatch Outtakes

by Raziel12



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, Humour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raziel12/pseuds/Raziel12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What exactly are the heroes and villains up to when they aren't being all heroic and villainous? Chapter 2: Working for villains can be very tricky, especially when those villains are Reaper and Widowmaker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Conflict Resolution

**Conflict Resolution**

The psychologist folded his hands together in his lap and looked at the two other people on the opposite side of the coffee table. Both of them were dressed rather oddly. One was wearing a shirt of some kind that only covered one side of his chest while leaving one arm completely bare. The other was wearing what he assumed was a robot costume.

Okay…

They were definitely a bit odd, but they were hardly the strangest people the psychologist had met during his career in family conflict resolution. Besides, whomever he had spoken to on the phone had been quite adamant that these two men needed his help. Indeed, the man with the weird shirt was alternating between glaring at the man in a robot costume and reaching for the bow he’d carried into the room.

The psychologist checked his notes one more time and then decided to get the session started.  
“Good evening,” the psychologist said. “Do you mind if I address each of you by your first names? According to the information I have, you both have the same surname. Are you two brothers?”

The man with the bow scowled. “Very well. I am Hanzo. He is Genji. We are indeed brothers.”

“Can you tell me why you’re here?” the psychologist asked. He could guess why the brothers had scheduled a counselling session, but he thought it would help if they could say it themselves. People needed to admit they had a problem before they could fix that problem.

Hanzo frowned. “Because I murdered Genji and plunged myself into years of existential torment during which I abandoned my clan and forsook all that I had worked so hard to achieve.” He paused. “Plus, Genji is a self-righteous jerk who always thinks he knows what is best for others.” He paused again. “And one of his friends booked this appointment and tricked me into going. I assume it was Tracer.”

“You say you murdered your brother,” the psychologist nodded sagely. “Yet he is sitting right there beside you. You must mean that your hurt him deeply somehow. Genji, can you tell me how your brother hurt you?”

Genji glanced at his brother for a moment and then looked back at the psychologist. “He shot me with dozens of arrows before unleashing his most devastating technique and leaving me for dead.”

The psychologist blinked. “Okay… you and your brother do enjoy talking in metaphors, it seems. That’s wonderful. It’s something you have in common. What sort of arrows did he use, Genji? I’m going to guess that you’re using arrows as a metaphor for insults. Did he insult you as a person, Genji? Did he make fun of your life goals? Perhaps he made light of some of your emotions?”

“No,” Hanzo said. “I used my bow and shot him with actual arrows before summoning a spirit dragon to attack him. He was like a burning pin cushion by the end.”

“What?” the psychologist blurted.

“Yes,” Genji said. “You seem to be labouring under the impression that he didn’t try to kill me. He did. This outfit I’m wearing isn’t for show. I’m a cyborg now, and I went through years of existential angst regarding my dual machine and human nature.” He scoffed. “Then I visited this idiot to explain to him that I was not dead, and that I would be happy to fight alongside him once more if it was to protect this world from evil.”

“And… uh… how did that go?”

“He tried to kill me again, but I beat the crap out of him.”

“You did not beat the crap out of me!” Hanzo growled. “I let you win because I felt bad about almost killing you earlier!”

“If by letting me win you mean that I beat you like a drum, then, yes, you let me win.” Genji chuckled. “You should have seen the look on your face when I redirected your technique. It was hilarious.”

“It was a load of crap! You can’t just deflect someone’s ultimate technique like that. It is an insult to my honour.”

“You insulted your own honour when you tried to kill me.”

The psychologist cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, please. It’s nice that you’re talking, but you need to talk with each other, not at each other. Resolving a family conflict requires give and take between both sides. So, please, calm down. We can work through this together.”

“Fine.” Hanzo looked away. “How many sessions will this take? One? Two?”

The psychologist shook his head. “No, I’m thinking it may take us a few more sessions that that to work through this.”

X X X

The psychologist breathed a sigh of relief as the Shimada brothers left. Good grief. It was a miracle they hadn’t tried to kill each other in the middle of the session. Ah, well, it was time for his next session. Surely, this one couldn’t be any stranger.

The door burst open, and the psychologist could only stare as three women walked in. Actually, that wasn’t quite right. Two of the women walked in. One of them was a slim woman wearing goggles and with a strange glowing device on her chest. The other woman was a mountain with pink hair. The taller of the two had a blue-skinned woman thrown over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Naturally, the blue-skinned woman was bound and gagged.

“Evening, love!” the shorter of the two women on their feet zipped over to a chair. “We spoke on the phone earlier. I hope those two brothers straightened things out a bit. Now, I didn’t have time to explain everything to your receptionist over the phone. What do you know about undoing neural conditioning?”

“Did you kidnap that woman?” the psychologist asked. “Did you?”

The woman with pink haired tossed the bound woman into one of the chairs and sat down in the other. She crossed arms thick with muscles over her chest. “No. She is here of her own free will.” Her eyes burned into his, all but daring him to disagree.

The psychologist glanced to the side. The woman with blue skin was spewing what he strongly suspected was a steady stream of threats against her gag. “Oh… okay… uh… how about we start from the beginning…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I do not own Overwatch. I am not making any money off of this either.
> 
> This poor psychologist has his work cut out for him. It’ll take more than a few sessions to fix things up between the brothers. Think several hundred sessions. And let’s not forget the trio at the end. There is going to be a lot of trouble once Widowmaker gets free.
> 
> As always, I appreciate feedback. Reviews and comments are welcome.


	2. Working For Reaper

**Working For Reaper**

Even amongst minions, there was a pecking order, and Mike was reasonably close to the top. As a result, it was up to Mike to raise a delicate issue with his employer. He took a deep breath to gather his courage, made sure he was wearing his body armour, and then knocked on the door.

“Sir?”

“Come in.” The voice was a harsh rasp.

Mike opened the door. His employer was sitting at his desk skimming through what were most likely top-secret files that had been illegally procured, quite possible in a manner that involved a great deal of bloodshed and lots of explosions. They must have been fairly old, however, since Mike would have remembered going on a mission like that. As usual, Reaper was wearing his robes and his mask.

“What is it, Mike?” Reaper growled. “Did we run out of coffee again?”

Mike shook his head. Running out of coffee was indeed one of the more common problems when hiding out in a super-secret lair. “Uh, no, sir. I made sure to buy plenty the last time we were out.” He paused. This was going to be so awkward. “It’s… well, the others and I have been talking…”

Reaper sat up in his chair. “Is it the pay, Mike?” He tapped one of his shotguns. “Is it?”

“No, no,” Mike said quickly. “The pay is fine. It’s great, actually. Plus, we even get dental on our employee insurance. That’s been a lifesaver, you know, since we get punched in the face a lot and things are always exploding and throwing shrapnel and debris everywhere.”

“You’re not reconsidering villainy, are you?” Reaper asked, exasperation creeping into his tone. “I thought we discussed this before you and the others signed on. I am a bad guy, and I do bad things for a whole lot of money. So long as you work for me, you’ll help out with those bad things, and I’ll make sure you get a cut of the profits.”

Mike shook his head. “No, sir. None of us are reconsidering villainy. We’d rather work for you than for anyone else.”

It was true. Reaper wasn’t loyal to any particular cause or organisation, but he could be loyal to individuals – like the men and women he’d personally hired to be his minions after an especially useless squad of Talon operatives had botched an important mission.

“Good. Replacing you would be a hassle that I don’t need. So what’s the problem then? Is it about our last mission? I know Widowmaker disappeared for a while, but she was fighting Tracer.” Reaper made an angry sound. “Tracer must have gotten better. Widowmaker was gone for almost an hour. It was a miracle that we managed to complete the mission.”

Mike had a few ideas about why Windowmaker had been gone for almost an hour, and it definitely had something to do with Tracer getting better. But Tracer hadn’t gotten better at fighting. Nope, if he had to bet on it, he’d say Tracer had gotten a whole lot better at something else entirely, not that he was about to ask Widowmaker about it. He enjoyed living.

“Uh, that’s not it, sir.”

“Then what is it?”

“Well… to be honest… it’s about that thing you do.”

“What thing?” Reaper rumbled. “You need to be more specific.” He tapped his shotgun again, which was never a good sign.

“You know that thing where you spin around shooting everywhere and killing everything?” Mike asked. Reaper nodded. “It’s not exactly working out for me and the others.”

“What?” Even if he couldn’t see Reaper’s face, Mike could sense the other man’s eyes narrowing ominously. “Are you saying that you’ve got a problem with my strongest move?”

“How do I put this… it’s not that we don’t appreciate how devastating that move is and how you can kill dozens of people in a couple of seconds, but you kind of need to warn us first. I mean… you’re just shooting everywhere. We’re not bulletproof, sir, and your aim isn’t exactly stellar when you’re using that move.”

Reaper twitched.

“I mean you put Paul in the hospital the last time you used that. You shot him in the leg. Before that it was Bill. You shot him in the, uh, upper thigh. And before that, it was Jill. You got her in shoulder.” Mike rubbed his stomach. “There was also that time you shot me in the stomach. Twice.”

“Oh.” Reaper leaned back in his chair. “I did not know that.”

“We thought we should keep it quiet. We didn’t want to trouble you, and the insurance covered everything. But we’re beginning to sense a bit of a trend, so we’d like it if, maybe, you could give us a warning or something first, so we could all get behind cover. That way, you’d only be hitting the good guys while the rest of us stay out of the way.”

Reaper coughed. “I see. Okay, right. I can do that.”

Mike smiled. “Thank you, sir!”

Reaper nodded. “By the way… your teeth look whiter.”

“Thanks.” Mike smiled again. “Remember, we get dental on our employee insurance.”

X X X

After successfully sorting things out with Reaper, Mike had a spring in his step as he sipped a cup of coffee and patrolled one of the more isolated corridors near Widowmaker’s quarters. He wasn’t sure there was any need to do patrols – this was a super-secret lair in the middle of nowhere – but it couldn’t hurt to be careful.

However, he screeched to a halt as he heard the sound of laughter and giggling. His eyes narrowed. Laughter and giggling near Widowmaker’s quarters? Someone must have snuck in. He retreated around a corner and pulled out his radio.

“I have possible intruders near Widowmaker’s quarters,” Mike murmured. “I’m going to take a closer look.”

Mike readied his rifle and then crept toward the sound of the laughing and giggling. He could almost have sworn that Widowmaker was one of the people laughing, but that was crazy. She had a sadistic cackle, not a carefree laugh. He waited a heartbeat longer and then burst around the corner.

“Hands up! Now… huh?”

Widowmaker was there with Tracer slung over her shoulder. She appeared to have one hand on the other woman’s, uh, posterior.

“Is that… Tracer?” Mike stuttered.

Widowmaker’s eyes widened for a second, and then she coughed and gave Tracer what Mike could only describe as a desperate look. 

“Yes,” Widowmaker said slowly. “It is Tracer. I have, uh, captured her.” She poked Tracer in the ribs. “I repeat: I have captured her.”

“Oh, right.” Tracer flailed around. “Oh, no. I’ve been captured. Whatever shall I do? Clearly, I am not here of my own free will. Help! Woe is me! Help!” She paused and then continued after seeing Mike’s utterly unimpressed look. “No… someone save me… uh… from… um… death and stuff. Yeah.”

Widowmaker closed her eyes for a moment, muttering under her breath in French, before she opened her eyes again and turned to face Mike. “Mike, I have captured Tracer. I am going to interrogate her in my room. It will be a very thorough interrogation. It will likely take all night. However, it must also remain secret.”

“Secret?” Mike would eat his uniform if interrogation was actually what Widowmaker had in mind for Tracer. 

“Yes. Do not tell Reaper, or I will shoot you. Repeatedly. Until you die.”

“Uh… sure.” Mike took out his radio. “This is Mike. It was a false alarm. There are no intruders. Everything is fine.”

Widowmaker nodded and resumed walking down the corridor to her room with Tracer still slung over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

Tracer waved. “Cheers, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I do not own Overwatch. I am not making any money off of this either.
> 
> Working for villains is never easy, especially when one of them is shooting everywhere and the other one is ‘abducting’ their ‘archenemy’ for thorough interrogation. Oh well, at least the pay is good and there is dental cover.
> 
> As always, I appreciate feedback. Reviews and comments are welcome.


End file.
